


Burning

by Ismeneee



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, Feanor being a bad dad, and pain, brief mention of russingon, burning of the Teleri ships, enjoy amras' heart breaking, how does one set their youngest son on fire and not notice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23473114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismeneee/pseuds/Ismeneee
Summary: "'That ship I destroyed first,' said Fëanor, hiding his own dismay..."
Kudos: 18





	Burning

Crickets chirped on that cool night — their first — in Beleriand. It might have been quiet, serene, lit with stars innumerable by the Lady Varda around the hosts of the exiled Noldor in their camps to their amazement and wonder in this new land.

That is, had not their ships been burning.

Maitimo’s jaw hardened at the sight of his father, walking away at a proud stride from ship to ship, torch in hand, manic delight so plain in his face for all to see. Smoke billowed up, flames gorged themselves on the beautiful Teleri ships, transforming their beauty into another kind — though this kind was angry, destructive, and terrible. Maitimo could not help but wonder how, for all his hate of Morgoth, his father sometimes acted awfully like him.

 _No, hush._ He banished those traitorous thoughts from his mind with a shake of his head, though he still refused to aid his family in their efforts; his own torch he extinguished by thrusting the tip in the damp earth, hands shaking with repressed fury at what his father had done. He still believed wholeheartedly in their cause, but now… this act, this _needless_ burning… it was a step over the line. He knew Fëanáro hated Aracáno, but this was unnecessary! Fëanáro could truly act like such a little _elfling_ at times. However, soon enough, his thoughts of his father’s shortcomings were overcome by a much pleasanter subject, though many times more painful, now. 

_Findekáno._

He curled his hand into a fist — little crescent moons formed in his palm where his nails dug into his skin — and rested it against the trunk of a tree, leaning on it, his other hand rubbing his face, a whirlwind of emotions overwhelming him.

Findekáno’s face danced before him: his smile, his eyes, his hair — shining and dancing in the sun, gold ornaments adorning him. Maitimo could remember how his hair felt rippling between his fingers when he’d curled it between them as they lay together, carefree, in the fields of Valinor. Now, his cousin was an ocean away, stranded, his means of returning to Maitimo burning before their very eyes. _Finno…_

His lament was suddenly rudely interrupted by Ambarussa.

“Nelyo, have you seen Pityo?!” The elf was beside himself. “He left our tents an hour ago for fresh air, I assumed now he was with Atto burning the ships, but he is not, I cannot find him, have you seen h—”

It was then the screaming started.

It was shrill, guttural, wailing in agony, from one of the ships…. and unmistakable.

Ambarussa whipped around to face the ships. The flames seemed to slow their flickering before his very eyes, his pupils shrunk, and every other noise in the world went silent. He knew, somehow, he knew innately who it was that screamed so, he needed not check his suspicious, he _knew_ — and when he spoke, he barely breathed the word, so quietly the air hardly moved at all before his quivering lips:

_“...............Pityo.”_

The next thing he knew, he was sprinting for the water.

“PITYO!” He nearly tripped over himself, flying over the grass to the boats, still deaf to anything but the screaming of his twin. He could not hear Maitimo’s cries to stop, to stop or he might kill himself on the ship, he kept running, blind to all but the hellish glare of the fires now feasting on his brother.

Maitimo looked desperately around, chasing after him, but Ambarussa was simply too fast, panic-driven and determined. Tyelkormo and Fëanáro were too far away to arrive in time to stop them, the same with Carnistir and Atarincë and the rest of the Noldor (for the ship that screamed had been the first to be lit, and their hosts had already moved on), but then he saw — thank Ilúvatar — Makalaurë stood by the burning, shrieking ship, his expression nothing less than horror-stricken.

“KANA!”

Makalaurë whirled around — just in time, too — for at that moment, Ambarussa ran past him out onto the docks. He chased him, he reached out to stop him as his younger brother reached the end of the docks, backed up, took a running start and leapt to try to reach the boat—

Ambarussa’s breath left him as an arm circled round his waist and yanked him back to the docks, away from the ship. He choked, then screamed, his own voice entwining with the smoke-hoarse one of Ambarto’s, writhing in Makalaurë’s grasp. His hair stuck to his forehead and whipped around him as he struggled, rabid and wild with panic and desperation.

The screams continued. “TELVO! TELVO, _HELP ME, TELVO PLEASE, PLEASE HELP ME TELVO_ —AHHHHHhhhhhhHHHHH _HHHHH **HHHHHHHHH!!!** ”_

“PITYO! _UNHAND ME, KANA!_ HE IS BURNING, WE MUST _SAVE_ HIM, _UNHAND ME I SAY!! PITYO, PITYO I’M COMING_ —”

At that moment, Maitimo reached them and joined Makalaurë in holding back the sobbing Ambarussa. The rest of their brothers joined them soon enough, and it took all of their strengths combined to drag their youngest away from the docks and back to safety. His struggle never ceased for a moment, reaching towards the boat and crying out in pain. Tears streamed down his ashy cheeks, creating two clean rivulets down his face, and his eyes shone with the reflection of the fires he gazed at in horror. He screamed strings upon strings of curses at his brothers, pleading to be allowed to rescue Ambarto, to go to the ship and save him, there was yet time…!

Makalaurë pulled him close and sank to the ground, Ambarussa in his arms, and Maitimo held him on his other side. Tyelkormo held him from behind to aid in keeping him from escaping their hold, and the other two in front, so he was surrounded by his brothers, all holding him. Maitimo hurriedly whispered warnings, urging him to cease his struggle, for Ambarto was beyond saving. It seemed to work, for slowly… slowly… he closed his eyes and leaned into them, still (save for his wracking sobs), realizing the futility of any attempt of rescue, though his ears were and would always be forever assailed by his brother’s cries.

Gradually… the shrieking faded away.

Silence was worse than screams.

.

.

.

The only sounds that remained for hours afterwards were Ambarussa’s breaking, hiccupping voice — raw and still crying — and the mocking crackle of flame.

Fëanáro had arrived moments later, his expression stony and unreadable, staring at the ship. He did not even realize he had spoken until he heard Ambarussa address him in response, violently shaking and glaring at him hatefully, no less than spitting out the words:

“Then r-rightly you g-gave the name t-to the youngest of your… your… y-your children, and _Umbarto ‘the Fated’_ was its _t-true form! Fell and f-fey are you b-become!!”_

Fëanáro’s jaw hardened and he gave no reply; his other sons glanced nervously between their youngest and their father. Overtop Ambarussa’s head, Maitimo’s eyes flitted up and caught Makalaurë’s; in that moment, an understanding passed between them, a mutual realization: _Atto._

Maitimo broke the glance and closed his eyes.

Makalaurë held his brother closer, and kissed his forehead.

Fëanáro turned away, spiteful, full of remorse and yet too proud to show it, not even in front of his sons.

Tyelkormo, Carnistir, and Atarincë all were silent.

Ambarussa cried out and wailed for all to hear.

Their brother was dead, and it was their father’s fault.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one sitting.  
> And then it all got deleted. Everything, the entire work, after it was finished, completely gone from everything. I rewrote it, and so here it is. I hope there weren't any typos or lore mistakes, I did not edit, I could not find the motivation to after rewriting it all from scratch, I'm sorry :,)
> 
> ......wELL THAT WAS FUN TO WRITE!


End file.
